


Secrets and Dreams

by selinamoonfire



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, between TDT and BLLB, canon typical language, implied helen gansey/adam parrish, sneaky ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25664152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinamoonfire/pseuds/selinamoonfire
Summary: There were two types of secrets.  One was the type that needed two people to exist.  One that the keeper hoarded close, never letting anyone know the truth.  The other was the type that a person kept from themselves either through willful blindness or an inability to accept a truth that could cause heartache.Thanks to the help of a certain ghostly roommate, Ronan and Gansey's secrets will transform from one type of secret to another and certain dreams will become reality.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Ronan Lynch
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who listened to me and assisted me with during the process creating this fic. 
> 
> Thank you to Kitty for listening to plotting sessions, alpha reading, and eventually helping with the beta reading of this fic. Thank you for encouraging me to keep going. 
> 
> Thank you to Moiya for being a creative outlet, helping me piece things together, and cheering me on during this. You kept me moving forward when I was second guessing myself.
> 
> Thank you to lunenightingale who has never read the books, but helped with the technical side of the writing process and listened to me talk about magical boys, plot holes, and ghosts.
> 
> A special thanks to my Big Bang team. Thank you to Hexicorn-art for the lovely artwork to go with this story. It is stunning. Thank you to my cheerleader and beta, parttimehuman. Your comments helped me not panic as this story took a few turns that I never expected.
> 
> Also a big thank you to everyone on the Raven Cycle Big Bang discord server who helped me get past my fears of writing groups and encouraged me to start writing again. 
> 
> Characters are assumed to be 18 in this story.

Two types of secrets ruled Ronan Lynch’s life. One was the type that needed two people to exist. One that the keeper hoarded close, never letting anyone know the truth. The other was the type that a person kept from themselves either through willful blindness or an inability to accept a truth that could cause heartache.

When Noah appeared on Ronan’s bed, well past midnight, wearing a knowing smirk that had become more prevalent since Adam began working at repairing the ley line, one secret went from being one type to the other. “When are you going to tell Gansey that you’re in love with him?”

With that statement the truth that Ronan had been keeping carefully barricaded against himself changed from the type of secret that only involved one person to the type that involved two.

Three, technically, since Noah had made Ronan’s guilty secret into reality as if Gansey had used his weird fucking voice magic to turn in into something real.

It had always been real, but it’d been easily ignored. As long as Ronan could hide the truth from himself with anger and sarcastic comments about various Gansey related traits, he could lie to himself.

Now, thanks to a ghost who was too fucking observant, Ronan’s secret was _real_.

Ronan turned away from the bed, searching for his ear buds, planning to ignore Noah until he finally gave up and faded away. Except ignoring him meant that Noah might decide to have a chat with Gansey. It was too early for their best friend to be asleep. Fuck.

“I am not-”

Noah gave him a strange, knowing look that somehow reminded him of the creepy psychics at Fox Way. “You don’t lie, Ronan. Except to yourself.”

His mouth snapped shut as that particular truth sank in. If he finished his denial, he’d be lying to Noah, one of the few people he actually wanted to be honest with. Swallowing back the words, he caught the snarl of white wires and began to untangle them. “I’m not going to tell him.”

Noah rocked back on the bed, shoulders connecting with the headboard. He wavered for a moment, going smudgy for the length of a heartbeat and then became solid again. Whatever Adam had done between shitty warehouse job and shitty factory job had given Noah a serious boost. Noah grinned when he didn’t fall through the wood, then tried to look stern while he was obviously excited over being less ghostly. “Why won’t you tell him? He’s your best friend. Like really your best friend. Not like - ”

Whelk, but neither one of them said the name aloud. Noah waited a beat, like one of them had spoken, then continued on as if they hadn’t both been thinking of Noah’s killer. “He cares about you.”

Caring wasn’t the same as ‘in love’ and Ronan wasn’t even sure that what he felt _was_ ‘in love’.

He must have said that part aloud because Noah frowned, leaning forward in concern. “Ronan, you _know_ you love him.”

“Yeah, like a brother.”

Noah let out a sound that was a cross between a snort and the noise that a five year old Matthew had made whenever he stuck out his tongue at Ronan. “Like Declan or Matthew?”

Ronan couldn’t quite hide his wince. Nothing that he felt for Gansey matched his feelings for his brothers. That denial had become habit. A way to deflect Kavinsky’s interest so he wouldn’t dig into Ronan’s psyche to find the truth.

Kavinsky had always been able to find Ronan’s secrets.

Had. K was gone. They’d never race again. There’d never be fights over K’s malicious suggestions related to the sleeping arrangements in Monmouth.

The realization caused guilt to dig its claws into Ronan’s mind, but before it could completely take hold, Noah repeated his question. “Like Declan or Matthew?”

Grabbing his phone, he shoved the earphone jack into the port, ready to blast Noah’s persistence away with something with more base than lyrics. Glancing over his shoulder at Noah, he realized that his ghostly roommate might do something to his phone to keep Ronan from using it as a form of escape.

Giving in to the inevitable - when had Noah learned how to maneuver him the way Gansey could? - he sat down at the foot of a bed. An almost solid Top-Sider prodded his thigh. “Well?”

“Not like a brother,” he admitted, hating the words. Hating the truth of them.

Noah nudged him again, shimmering slightly either from the ley line or expectations. “And?”

“I don’t know,” Ronan admitted, grinding out each word. Not a lie. He had feelings for Gansey. Since he’d met Gansey, he’d had an incomprehensible tangle of feelings for him that he refused to pull apart.

Leaning forward, Noah looked sympathetic, an expression that Ronan would have despised if Noah wasn’t one of his closest friends. “Ronan, I won’t tell anyone, but you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Something with a Night Horror’s wicked claws tightened around his heart. For some reason he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of a tire iron splattered with blood and a pile of bones resting in a satin lined casket. “Too late?” he echoed, voice grating into the muggy night air.

There was something sad and incomprehensible about Noah’s expression that dug those claws in deeper. “Everything will change in the fall.” He paused, his expression sad and lost for a few heartbeats before becoming more like the Noah they were all used to. “You’re both graduating this year.”

If Ronan graduated. He wasn’t sure if he’d bother with his senior year even if he knew Gansey and Adam would be disappointed. “Gansey graduating doesn’t mean that I’ll lose him.”

Even as he spoke, Ronan knew that the words were almost a lie. Everything would change once Gansey graduated, once he found Glendower. There’d be no reason for Gansey to stay in Henrietta. No reason to stay with Ronan.

“Just think about it,” Noah said gently, as if he’d read Ronan’s thoughts. Maybe he could. Who knew what spooky things Noah could do that he never told them about?

Before Ronan could say anything else, Noah faded from the bed, leaving him alone with a secret that he could no longer hide.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite Noah’s suggestions and attempt at help or whatever the fuck he’d been doing when he’d stirred up Ronan’s secrets, he did _not_ think about it. He didn’t think about Gansey and college, refusing to consider that his best friend might leave Henrietta. Might leave him.

Not until two days after Noah’s visitation or haunting or whatever the fuck he’d been doing when he’d dredged up Ronan’s feelings and tried to have him analyse them. Not until he’d been walking through the lower level of Monmouth, considering picking up a pizza to share with Gansey.

That was when he saw the nest of paper that had landed on the secondhand coffee table. Chainsaw looked at it with interest, hopping down from his shoulder to investigate the tangle of envelopes and slick booklets. Moving closer to the mess, he gently shooed her away, digging a glittery cat toy that he’d picked up at Dollar City from his pocket to distract her before she tore up something important. Finding the crinkly ball and the bell hidden inside more interesting than the paper, Chainsaw plucked the toy from the floor and hopped off to her usual corner to destroy her prize.

He approached the table with more wariness than his raven. “What the fuck is that?” Ronan asked, circling the pile of slick catalogs spread out before him. Picking one up, he read the name branded across the top. Harvard. Picking up another, he scowled down at the letters proclaiming Yale across the cover. Princeton. Stanford.

Fuck, wasn’t that somewhere on the West Coast?

He tossed the brochure down with the others, turning toward the ‘office’ area where Gansey’s desk and bookshelves had ended up when they’d shoved furniture in random areas of the open bottom floor. Gansey wasn’t there, of course. He’d said something about needing to research property lines, but the fact that he wasn’t there still frustrated him.

Why hadn’t Gansey mentioned he was looking at colleges? He’d never said anything about it to Ronan, at least not in a way that made it seem like he was serious about it. College had never seemed like a part of Gansey’s plans. He’d been focused on school so that his parents wouldn’t drag him back to D.C. and on Glendower.

But obviously Gansey _was_ serious about it since he had at least a dozen brochures or mailers piled up in the living room. Turning away from Yale, he noticed a large, white envelope that made his stomach twist and dread tighten his throat.

The logo embossed next to the return address was plain, almost innocent looking considering the carnage it could cause.

Oxford.

Reaching for the thing like it was a hornet, he gingerly picked it up, tipping it enough for the brochure and applications inside to begin to slide out. Then he slapped it back down with the others, heart kicking in his chest as the implications of that particular college choice clawed its way into his mind.

Gansey had always seemed wistful when he talked about England. Almost homesick. It hadn’t been the way Ronan talked about the Barns when the fucking will had kept him out, but there’d been longing in his voice. An itch to return to the place where Gansey had really started the search for Glendower.

“That one’s from Malory,” Noah announced, appearing on top of the pool table, either sitting on the felt or hovering a few inches above it. He extended a hand toward one of the pool balls and it began to slowly roll across the green until it clacked against another. He looked pleased for a moment, then turned his attention back to Ronan. “He said that he’d help Gansey with all the paperwork and that he could stay with him during the holidays.”

Would Gansey really leave Henrietta to fuck off off to Oxford? He always said that Henrietta was home, but there had to be a reason for that homesickness that Ronan had heard in Gansey’s voice.

Whenever he got off the phone after his conversations with Malory, he was quiet. Like he _missed_ who he’d been in England. Gansey became a different person around Malory. More serious. More scholarly and less like the boy that Ronan had rambled through the hills around Henrietta with. Sometimes it seemed that Gansey preferred that version of himself, slipping into that role easier than the one of the politician’s son or even the King of Aglionby. 

Maybe that’s what Gansey wanted after he found Glendower. Maybe he’d forget about being the boy who had bought a hellfire orange Camaro and the farm boy that he’d bewitched into the search and become a boring scholar. He’d probably start showing chickens or whatever birds Malory was so fucking fixated on.

He’d thought losing the Barns had hurt, but from the knot of dread that suffocated him, Ronan knew that Gansey leaving, becoming another tweed-wearing drone, could potentially be worse.

Shoving aside that emerging grief, he turned to Noah, almost baring his teeth at him. “I thought you didn’t tell other people’s secrets,” he snapped, hoping that Noah would flinch away from his wrath, but knowing he wouldn’t.

Noah looked unimpressed by fangs and venom. The pool balls slowed to a stop as he shrugged. “If you’d been here with Gansey, it wouldn’t have been a secret.”

_If he’d been here with Gansey. . ._

The grief twisted into guilt and something worse that he couldn’t think about while surrounded by mini Henrietta and the chaos of Gansey’s research.

Letting out a snarl he stalked away from the coffee table and the future that Gansey was planning. A future that obviously wouldn’t include Henrietta. Or Ronan.

Snagging his keys from the hook beside the door, he slammed his way out of Monmouth to the BMW. He had to think, or not think. He wasn’t sure which would make it easier for him to accept that Noah’d been right.

In a few months, Gansey would be filling out college applications and writing those bullshit admittance essays that Adam was always talking about. Soon, Gansey would be leaving, just like Noah had predicted.

**# # #**

When Gansey walked into Monmouth, bracing an armful of books against his chest, he was greeted by the sight of Noah on the pool table, levitating the billiard balls like he was a juggler at a Renaissance Faire. The acrobatics only wavered slightly as Gansey closed the door and moved toward his desk.

Once the books were safe, he looked around the first floor, then up at the second, knowing that Ronan’s door would be closed, but hoping that it wouldn’t be. “Where’s Ronan?”

“Out.”

Of course.

Letting out a sigh, Gansey leaned against the desk, rubbing his eyes. He should have known that Ronan wouldn’t be around when he came home. He considered asking Noah if he knew when Ronan would be back, but he already knew the answer. Ronan would return when he decided to, ignoring anything but a planned outing to continue the search.

He shouldn’t feel disappointed or annoyed. Ronan was Ronan and Gansey knew that he couldn’t force his best friend to change. But he did feel disappointed. He did wish that Ronan was here, but he knew that the Barns beckoned to Ronan in a way that Gansey would never understand. He shouldn’t be hurt by Ronan’s inability to resist that enchantment.

Repeating that reminder until it settled his thoughts, he turned back to Noah and the levitating billiards equipment. Moving closer, he smiled as Noah’s face scrunched in concentration and the balls shifted into another pattern. “A good day?” he asked softly, not wanting to distract his friend.

Noah let out a hum that Gansey interpreted as a ‘yes’. He did look more solid and the air seemed to vibrate with energy. Adam must have worked on the ley line after his shift at the warehouse.

Leaving Noah to his new hobby, Gansey turned toward the kitchen, pausing when he saw the scattering of paper and catalogs across the coffee table. Picking up one for Harvard, he glanced over his shoulder. “What’s all this?”

The billiard balls wavered, a few clacking together, but they remained airborne as Noah focused on Gansey and the brochure he held up. “Oh. Those are Adam’s. I think they fell out of his bag when he visited yesterday. I put them there so he’d find them later.”

_Noah_ had put them there? “Then today is better than good.”

Noah grinned and nodded, then went back to his juggling. Reminding himself to call Adam later and tell him about the missing college materials, Gansey went to the refrigerator to see if there were any leftovers he could reheat for dinner. If Ronan wasn’t going to be home, then there was no reason to do more than that.


	3. Chapter 3

Most nights sleep proved an elusive artifact that, if he was lucky, Gansey was able to find some fragment of before morning. Some nights those fragments were larger than others. Hours of rest that were treasured and looked upon fondly. While other nights, he couldn’t find even the faintest chip of a broken shard.

On those nights, he spent the quiet, heavy hours with Ronan or with his model of Henrietta. Although recently the time he spent with Ronan was becoming almost as elusive as sleep.

The speeding tickets were less common now, a change in circumstances that Gansey assumed was caused both by Ronan regaining his childhood home and from the lack of a certain influence in Ronan’s nightlife. But legally owning the Barns meant less time in Monmouth. Less time with Gansey.

He told himself that he shouldn’t feel jealous - not jealous, lonely - during the nights that Ronan was gone, but Monmouth seemed larger when he was the only one in the echoing space. The present seemed less tangible and the future weighed heavily on exhausted shoulders.

The model helped, the precision and detail demanded by the work easing some of the heaviness that bent his spine. He could lose himself in piecing together miniature walls, building an ideal world that he pretended could exist outside of the safety of Monmouth.

Tonight, it seemed that he wasn’t alone. When he looked up from the cardboard walls that he was holding together as the glue set, Noah materialized beside him.

Sitting tailor fashion across from him, Noah carefully capped the bottle of glue, giving him a delighted smile when he managed the feat.

It should be a good night for Noah, then. For both of them since on Noah’s more solid nights, he seemed able to keep Gansey company until dawn or until Ronan returned, whichever arrived first.

Smiling at Noah’s accomplishment, Gansey set down the cardboard walls and began working on a section of roof. For a short time, or perhaps hours since time moved strangely in the shadows, Noah was silent. Then, after Gansey completed the roof and another section of walls, his friend spoke. “Denial is not a good look for you.”

Gansey froze, staring down at the cardboard he’d been about to measure for the next wall, trying to understand what Noah was referring to. Nothing obvious came to mind. Looking up, he pushed his glasses into place, still trying to understand Noah’s comment, but without more information it was incomprehensible. “Beg pardon?”

“Denial,” Noah repeated, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, chin cupped in one hand. “It’s not a good look for you.”

In theory, the words made sense, but Gansey couldn’t find the correct context. “Denial relating to what?”

“Ronan.”

Slowly setting down the pencil he’d been about to use to mark off the next section of house, he tried to determine how one word, one name, could cause his thoughts to slow while something akin to panic jumped along his nerves. “I don’t understand.”

Yes, he did, but that aspect of his life had ended with Niall’s death. Before that morning, there had been possibilities, a glimmering hope that Gansey had barely been able to admit to. His fear of ruining the first true friendships that either one of them had ever been a part of had kept him from speaking or acting, but he’d believed that someday friendship might become something more.

Everything changed after Declan had called, telling him the horrifying details of that day. That Ronan had found Niall. Murder. Blood everywhere. Ronan almost splintering apart while he kept asking for _him_ , instead of Declan or Matthew. After that day, Gansey knew that whatever romantic feelings he might have had needed to be locked away so that he could be whatever Ronan required. He’d be protector or mentor, friend or bully, but he would never have the role he’d wished for during the early days of their friendship.

Noah’s expression turned skeptical, as if he knew that Gansey was lying. He probably did, but Gansey wasn’t going to admit to those feelings. Acknowledging them would make it harder to hide them when Ronan finally came home. "I saw how you looked at him when he gave you the Pig.”

“What?”

“The Pig. The new one. The dream one.” Noah paused, sitting up slightly before slouching down again. “What are we calling it?”

“The Pig,” Gansey suggested. He’d dubbed it the ‘newly minted Pig’ when Ronan had presented it to him, but now that it had been more than a week since that mind-bending experience, the description didn’t seem fitting.

“That’s so unoriginal,” Noah huffed, clearly unhappy with the Pig not having a new, more descriptive, name.

“But that’s what it is. It’s the Pig.” Perhaps not the original version, but the one he had now. One that he loved more than the Camaro that he’d bought almost two years ago.

Dropping the topic with a shrug, Noah returned to the original subject that Gansey had been avoiding. “When he gave you the Pig, you looked at him like he was your entire world.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Not exactly a lie, but close to one. Perhaps he had looked at Ronan the way Noah described. During that chaotic moment, he’d thought that home was Henrietta, the Pig, and Ronan, so his best friend would have been his whole world. But that didn’t mean that he could act on those feelings.

Noah narrowed his eyes, obviously not falling for the half-truth. “Whenever you’re alone with Ronan, you’re all hearts eyes over him.”

“Where did you learn the phrase ‘hearts eyes’?”

“From Blue.”

Gansey wasn’t certain that he wanted to know why Noah had picked up that phrase from Blue or who they’d been referring to while using it. “If I only do that - if I do that - when I’m alone, then how do you know that it happens.”

Noah gave him a look that clearly questioned his intelligence. “I get all spooky sometimes and see things.”

By ‘spooky’, Gansey assumed he meant incorporeal. “And that gives you the opportunity to spy on us?”

“It’s not spying. I just prefer to stay near my friends when I’m not visible.”

It was tempting to ask more questions about those times, but that would be tactless. Noah deserved some privacy related to his afterlife even if he occasionally eavesdropped on others.

“It’s safer if I stay with one of you,” Noah added softly. Before Gansey could consider what that might imply, Noah continued. “Which is how I noticed how you look at him. Those looks are _not_ ‘just friends’, Gansey. Especially when he’s around people you don’t approve of.”

“Noah, you misinterpreted things,” he protested, knowing that he sounded unconvincing. How could he make the lie believable when they both knew it was untrue?

“Sure I did,” Noah said with enough sarcasm for Ronan to approve of. “What about all those times you raged over Ronan and Kavinsky being together?”

“I did not rage over them being together. I was concerned that Ronan would make bad decisions while in the company of a juvenile delinquent.”

Noah’s expression clearly implied he didn’t believe Gansey’s protests. “You were jealous.”

“I was not.”

Noah’s expression claimed that nothing he could say that would sway his opinion so Gansey picked up his pencil and resumed his work. They stayed in companionable, if distracted, silence until Noah eventually placed a mostly-solid hand over his. “I know that if I keep pushing, you’re going to keep saying I’m wrong. That you weren’t jealous and you don't have those types of feelings for him. That it's platonic-”

“It _is_ platonic.”

Noah’s hand didn’t move, but it did become cooler, as if his annoyance somehow changed his energy flow. “Fine. Keep telling yourself that it’s platonic. Pretend that you don’t have feelings for him, but you still need to spend time with him.”

That caused Gansey to put aside his pencil again, mentally bristling at the accusation even though he knew Noah was trying to help. Even as he spoke, he knew that he was being selfish, his frustration and loneliness getting the better of him. “I’m not the one who keeps leaving.”

Realizing what he’d said, he muttered an apology, heartfelt but feeling too exposed by his outburst and Noah’s persistence.

Noah hummed thoughtfully, a sound that Gansey decided meant that the apology had been accepted and his friend was deciding what to say next. “He does keep leaving. We both know he needs the Barns,” Noah admitted, voice soft, almost cautious, in the shadows around them. “But he also needs you. Especially after the Fourth.”

Even a week later, Gansey wasn’t sure what he felt in relation to what had happened that day. He had the feeling that they were still processing what happened along with what could have happened if things had gone differently. What none of them had anticipated, what Ronan hadn’t been able to fully comprehend after they’d all returned to Monmouth physically unscathed, was Kavinsky’s death.

“Because of Kavinsky’s suicide?”

None of them had called it that, at least not aloud, but from Ronan’s description of their fight, it seemed that Joseph had chosen to end his own life.

“Not that. Now that he’s got the Barns and he can kinda control his dreaming, he’s finally beginning to get better.”

Gansey had wondered if Ronan had started to heal, especially after witnessing his joy over the dreamed Pig. That laughter and elation had been something that Gansey had thought had been lost forever, but somehow Ronan had found it again. The shadows and loss hadn’t disappeared. They would always be part of Ronan, but now he seemed to be able to feel more than just grief and anger. “He seems to be healing.”

“Which means he needs you, Gansey.”

He wasn’t certain of that. Ronan needed the Barns, the home that he had grieved for as he’d mourned Niall and Aurora. He needed to learn to accept himself, his gifts, which Ronan seemed to be taking the first steps toward. But did he need Gansey? That he wasn’t certain of.

Noah seemed to sense his uncertainty, curling his fingers briefly around Gansey’s before pulling away. “Just. . . If he asks to spend time with you, don’t say no.”

He wouldn’t say no. He rarely refused Ronan anything unless agreement meant that there was a possibility of death or prison time. Even with those guidelines, he’d still helped Ronan dispose of a body. “I won’t.”

His friend acknowledged his answer with a smile and an attempt at picking up the pencil. Noah flickered briefly, but managed to hand it to him. “I didn’t think you would but -” He ended the thought with a shrug that somehow made him seem both more real and more ghostly at the same time.

Gansey waited for him to say more, but Noah simply sat beside him, watching as he constructed roofs and walls until the first hints of daylight drifted along the horizon and a new day began.


	4. Chapter 4

They ended up celebrating Parrish’s birthday two weeks after all the batshit crazy of Fourth. Adam had insisted that they didn’t need to do anything. His birthday was just another day, which was bullshit since it meant that Adam could legally get the hell away from the trailer park, but Gansey had insisted. Then Blue and Noah had. Ronan had made his usual scoffing noises, which meant he agreed with the others.

Somehow Gansey had managed to convince Adam to take an afternoon off and actually enjoy it. Ronan wasn’t sure what had actually caused Adam to unbend enough to agree, but they’d spent most of the day in the Pig, finding odd places to wander that had nothing to do with Glendower. A miracle that Ronan didn’t expect. One that reminded him of the previous summer with Gansey even if they hadn’t known Adam and Blue then.

Gansey managed another miracle by convincing everyone that after a day spent sweating away in the Camaro, they should get gelato to actually celebrate Adam being legal. Neither one of the poverty twins complained even though they all knew that Gansey would try to pay later.

Once that particular argument seemed imminent, Ronan headed for the restroom. Gansey had told Blue that she had to fight her own battles with Ronan, so Ronan assumed that the same rule applied for Gansey and Adam. If Gansey needed help, Ronan would give it but as long as Adam didn’t storm out of the store, insulting Gansey so he could ignore the fact that they actually cared about him, he’d stay out of the way.

As he stepped out of the restroom, he almost collided with Noah. A blast of chilly air surrounded him as Noah shivered into and out of focus. “Fuck, Noah. What are you doing? I don’t need help going to the bathroom.”

“If I’d thought you needed help with that, I would have shown up _in_ the restroom.” Reaching for his hand, Noah paused, waiting for Ronan to close the distance between them. Letting out a sigh that he made sure sounded annoyed, he wrapped his fingers around Noah’s giving his friend the boost he needed to stay solid.

When Noah basically looked like everyone else in the shop, Ronan loosened his grip on the ghost, but didn’t break contact. Noah gave him a grateful smile before nodding toward one of the tables near the restroom. Carruthers and a boy that looked like a mini version of him sat beside each other, half eaten gelato ignored in favor of the kid staring at Ronan like he was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

“It’s Carruthers that needs your help.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. There were only two people at Aglionby Academy that were worth his time and Carruthers wasn’t one of them. Even if he didn’t look like the usual Raven Boy kiss-ass when he was talking to the boy next to him. He actually looked normal. Tolerable at least. Or that might be because it was obvious that the kid was important to Carruthers.

“That’s his little brother,” Noah added, as if that explained why Ronan should help one of the idiots from school.

Ronan grunted his indifference, ready to head back to the table when Noah somehow held him back as if he actually was solid. “His brother said that your tattoo isn’t real. Carruthers told him that it is, but his little brother won’t believe him unless Carruthers touches it.”

“Not my problem.” Ronan almost cringed at the thought of someone else touching his back. He’d allowed Matthew to touch it once it was healed, but no one except Gansey had been allowed that close.

“He dared him to do it.”

“Still not my problem, Czerny.”

“Carruthers is going to look like a wuss if he doesn’t do it.”

Ronan gave Noah a look that clearly told him that he didn’t give a fuck how Carruthers looked.

“Do you really want him to disappoint his little brother?”

Fuck. That was playing dirty. He’d never thought that their marshmallow ghost would try something like that, but Noah did have sisters. Having siblings meant learning to be sneaky.

Looking over at the idiot and his little brother, Ronan scowled, skin itching at the idea of someone who wasn’t family or Gansey touching him so intimately. “Why does he need to touch it to prove that it’s real?”

“It could be painted on,” Noah suggested, wavering slightly beneath the annoying, pastel lights that someone thought made the gelato shop ‘cute’. “That henna stuff.”

“It’s obviously not henna.” Fuck. Who would even think that the marks on his back could be painted on? A ten year old who thought his brother was telling stories. That’s who.

“C’mon, Ronan. What if it was Matthew? Would you want him thinking you were too scared to ask someone about their tattoo?”

Ronan rolled his eyes, turning away from Noah to head back to the table. Noah’s fingers tightened around his. As he began to tell him to let go of him, Noah’s expression turned to a version of the puppy dog eyes that Matthew used on him whenever he wanted something that Declan had said no to.

He might not be able to resist it when it was Matthew, but he should be able to resist Noah’s attempt at manipulating him.

Maybe he could have if Noah hadn’t flickered briefly, returning to visibility with a pout that proved that he’d had younger siblings and knew how to con them. Maybe if Noah was alive, Ronan could have said no, but it seemed cold-hearted even by Lynch standards to say no to a pouting ghost. “Fine.” Anything to get Noah to quit looking at him like that. “I’ll help him if it means you’ll stop making that face at me.”

Noah grinned and let go of his hand. He began to fade around the edges as the contact broke. “Thanks, Ronan. You won’t regret this.”

“Yeah, I will,” he muttered as Noah disappeared. Why was he letting a ghost con him? He ignored the obvious answer as he headed toward Carruthers’ table.

He was a pushover when a certain ghost gave him puppy dog eyes.

**# # #**

Gansey wondered what it said about both Ronan and himself that when Ronan didn’t return from the restroom after a certain amount of time, Gansey began to worry. Ronan shouldn’t be able to get in trouble in the middle of the gelato shop, but stranger things had happened. Even before they’d found a magical forest and they’d learned about Ronan’s dreaming, stranger things had happened.

He doubted that Ronan would intentionally start trouble while they were celebrating Adam’s birthday, but that didn’t mean something couldn’t happen.

Scanning the area for any potential disasters, he froze when he finally spotted Ronan.

His back was mostly turned away from the table that they shared. Tad Carruthers stood beside him. Actually, he was standing too close, like he usually did whenever he was around Ronan, but Ronan seemed to be tolerating the proximity. They were both talking to a little boy in the booth next to them.

It was strange, especially when Ronan usually ignored anyone from school no matter what setting they were in. For Ronan to be dragged into a civil conversation with a classmate that wasn’t Adam or Gansey was unsettling.

Then unsettling turned to something that Gansey never thought he’d witness. 

Carruthers was touching Ronan.

For a moment, reality seemed to bend, turning unrecognizable by the impossibility in front of him. Carruthers was touching Ronan’s back, fingers lingering over the lines that swooped from the curve of his shoulder into dangerous tangles of thorns and flowers that were hidden by the black muscle shirt that Ronan had insisted was party appropriate.

Something hot twisted in Gansey’s chest. No one had touched Ronan’s tattoo except the artist who had created it, Matthew, and Gansey. At least no one else had been given permission.

Until now. Until _Carruthers_.

Ronan didn’t even _like_ Carruthers, thinking he was an annoyance at best, another political kiss-up at worst.

And now he was _touching_ Ronan.

The something in his chest became recognizable, roaringalong with the heartbeat echoing Gansey’s ears. Before he could name it, give it power, he ruthlessly shoved it away, locking it up where it couldn’t ruin the celebration around him.

Ronan and Carruthers.

Jesus.

Before he could decide how to react when Ronan returned to the table, someone grabbed his arm, twisting it around. Shaking his head, he forced himself to pay attention to more than just the pair near the restroom. Blue looked at him, brow furrowed and hair askew, before twisting his arm more so she could look at his watch. “I need to get home.”

Adam hummed his agreement and pushed aside his bowl. “So do I. I have the early shift tomorrow.”

Gansey nodded, said the correct words of agreement and disappointment as Blue released his captive watch and arm. Forcing himself to focus on Blue and Adam, he carefully turned so that he couldn’t even glimpse Ronan and accidentally allow his jealousy to escape. “Do either one of you need a ride home?”

Adam shook his head, sliding out of the booth and digging in his back pocket for his wallet. Gansey began to protest, and then thought better of it, knowing how Adam would react to someone paying for his dessert even if it was a birthday gift.

As soon as the money hit the table, Blue scooped it up and handed it back to Adam. The two of them had some kind of standoff that Gansey didn’t understand. Something that maybe only their similar life experiences could make decipherable. She dug into her pants pockets and pulled out enough money to pay for her gelato and Adam’s. “You’ll pay for mine on my birthday.”

Somehow the words defused the anger that Gansey had recognized from a dozen battles with Adam over any subject that involved money. Adam’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he returned the bills to his wallet. “I will,” he agreed, a hint of Henrietta lacing the words, making them seem friendlier than the usual times when Adam’s accent slipped free.

“Good, because I’m going to order three scoops.”

Adam’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile. A sign that both the gift had been accepted and the tension from their breakup was fading. “You’d better.”

Knowing that one potential fight had been averted, he made sure that his jealousy was completely under control before speaking so that they could avoid a second potential fight. “Jane, would you like me to take you home?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Blue’s politeness seemed strange. Usually she mock-complained about the nickname, but instead she gave him a variation of the rumpled forehead and messy hair look from before. “Ronan’s taking Adam home.”

Years of attending political galas kept him from flinching at the mention of Ronan’s name. “Then it’ll be the three of us. Noah - ” Searching the room, he realized that Noah had disappeared. “Correction, it’ll be the two of us?”

“Good.” Gansey wasn’t certain why it would be good, but he assumed that Blue would tell him once they were in the Pig.

Saying good-bye to Adam, he paid the rest of the bill before gesturing toward Ronan. Receiving only a vague wave back when Ronan noticed him, he followed Blue out the door. Let Adam deal with Ronan and Carruthers. If he went near either one of them, Gansey was certain that he wouldn’t be able to maintain any type of civility.

**# # #**

It wasn’t until the second stoplight past the gelato shop that Blue finally announced why she had been acting strangely. “You can have your gay crisis at my house, if you want.”

Gansey made sure that the Pig had made a complete stop and there was no chance of it stalling before turning his head toward Blue. “Beg pardon?”

“Your gay crisis,” she repeated slowly, as if she was expecting him to be hysterical. “You can have it at my house.”

“Why would I have a gay crisis?”

“Because you just realized you’re gay?”

Gansey tried, and failed, to stop himself from letting out a snort of amusement. The noise would have offended his mother. Ronan would have approved of it, saying he finally was acting his chronological age, without actually using the word ‘chronological’. “I am not gay.”

“It’s okay, Gansey.” Her tone was soothing, meant to be helpful, but it had him biting the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something that might hurt her feelings. “I know that your parents are conservative Republicans. And they probably won’t be pleased to have a son who’s gay - ”

“I’m not gay,” he countered, cutting through her attempt at support before it went somewhere that was unnecessary. “And you’re stereotyping. My parents have always been supportive of LGBT rights.”

Blue _pershaw-ed_ , thumping her head against the headrest. “I’m not stereotyping,” she muttered, obviously not pleased that he’d brought up one of her particular blind spots. “Since when have a couple of Republicans been supportive of that?”

“Since their son told them that he’s bisexual.”

Even without looking at her, Gansey knew that Blue was gaping at him. “Bisexual?”

The light turned green and he shifted gears, waiting for the Pig to roll smoothly forward before speaking. “I said that I wasn’t gay, not that I didn’t like guys.”

She seemed flustered by that, starting to speak, then pausing before finally finding the words. “Then what about your crisis over wanting to punch a Raven Boy because he touched Ronan?”

That might actually cause a crisis if Gansey allowed himself to dwell on the emotions that sight had caused. “From what you’ve said in the past, punching a Raven Boy is a common reaction to being in the presence of one.”

Blue couldn’t deny that, not after all her complaints about how arrogant and annoying Gansey’s classmates could be. She silently acknowledged he was right, and he hoped that the conversation would end the closer they were to Fox Way.

“Why did you want to punch him?” she asked as softly as possible over the rumble of the Pig’s engine.

“Why do you believe that I wanted to punch him?”

“Because you don’t normally look that - ” She gestured vaguely, but he understood what she meant. Ronan had certain descriptors for that version of Gansey, but Blue hadn’t been part of the group long enough to hear them or experience the moods that had caused the names to become necessary. “Whatever.”

“Some things are private, Blue.”

“And some things shouldn’t be ignored or denied.”

Her words reminded him of his disagreement with Noah. The counterarguments that Gansey had used that night came to mind, but he was too drained to use any of them. Even being behind the wheel of the Pig couldn’t quite distract him from the truth of what had happened or Blue’s observations. He had wanted to punch Carruthers. He’d been jealous that someone else had touched Ronan’s tattoo. That someone had been close to Ronan in a way that Gansey envied. “And some things take time. I promise you that I’m not going to have a crisis.”

“Not right now, you aren’t,” she muttered, clearly not believing him. If Gansey was being honest with himself, he wasn’t certain that he believed himself.

“If I do decide to have a crisis, I’ll ask if I can come by and have it at your house.”

Glancing over at Blue, he watched annoyance change to reluctant acceptance. “Okay. But you know if you need. . .”

“If I need that sanctuary, you’ll be the first to know.”

Satisfied with his answer, Blue allowed him to shift their conversation to her thwarted driving lessons and the injustices of her cousins stealing the car whenever she had an afternoon off to practice.


	5. Chapter 5

Ronan was trying to be civil, or as civil as he could manage while trying to get away from the Carruthers’ family reunion. The mini Carruthers wasn’t bad but big brother didn’t seem to want to get out of Ronan’s space or know that after the initial tattoo testing, touching was forbidden. At school he would have dealt with the situation in a way that would have forced Gansey to break out his most charming smile and promise that he’d keep Ronan properly leashed. That response seemed wrong with mini Carruthers watching.

Adam appeared before Ronan had to consider how much violence would be acceptable around a ten year old. “You’re giving me a ride home.”

Carruthers backed away instantly, looking guilty as he moved back toward his little brother. At least he was smart enough to realize that it was time to quit being creepy. Or maybe he didn’t want Adam to witness his weird fanboying. “Thanks for letting him see your tattoo.”

Ronan shrugged, making sure not to scowl when the kid beamed at him. “Yeah. Thanks, Ronan.”

“You’re welcome.”

The response caused Adam to stare at him as if he’d never seen Ronan use his manners. Maybe he hadn’t, but Ronan had been taught how to be polite. He was just selective about when to use it. Little kids who thought his tattoo was awesome deserved an attempt at being civil.

Before he could be dragged into boring chit chat that Gansey excelled at and Adam could mimic, Adam jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s get going. I have an early shift tomorrow.”

Waving at the kid and ignoring Carruthers, Ronan glanced over at the table to see that the others were gone and a pile of bills had been left with the check before he led the way to the BMW. Unlocking the doors, he slid into the driver’s seat, cursing black leather and Virginia summers. Adam looked amused as he carefully sat down. Starting the car so that the air conditioning could try to cool the stifling heat, Ronan wished that his father had thought of a way to make the seats repel sunlight.

“You don’t have the early shift tomorrow and you don’t need a ride. You live four blocks from here.”

“I might have called the foreman to get another shift.” He might have, but Ronan knew that he hadn’t. He would have told them if his schedule had changed so that any Glendower searching could be revised. Adam shrugged. “It got you away from Carruthers.”

Ronan wasn’t going to say thank you, but he would give Adam the requested ride to St. Agnes. With a small detour.

If Adam was going to occupy the passenger seat, then Ronan was going to feed him. Turning the BMW away from St. Agnes, he headed toward the only fast food place in town. The closer they got to the primary colored monstrosity, the farther Adam sank into his seat.

Ronan knew that an argument was imminent. He knew that he should care about Adam’s pride and all that shit that Blue carried on about relating to privilege and poverty, but he was hungry and he knew that Adam had to be starving. Adam was always starving, and Ronan wasn’t going to ignore that so that his pride didn’t get bruised.

As soon as they pulled into the line for the drive through, Adam spoke. “I’m not getting anything.”

Ronan rolled his eyes since he’d already known what Adam would say. Too bad for Parrish that Ronan already had a way around his complaints. Ignoring the glare aimed toward him, he eased the BMW forward and ordered two of the biggest, greasiest bacon cheeseburgers on the menu and two Cokes.

Adam looked horrified with a hint of anger simmering below the surface. Ronan gave him a smirk that he knew would piss Adam off before they headed for the window. He could almost feel Adam vibrating with indignation as Ronan pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed the cashier a wad of bills. She gave him an annoying, public service smile and handed him drinks and two white paper bags.

Passing the food to Adam to keep him busy until they were out of the parking lot, he ignored the muttering from the passenger seat while he found a deserted parking lot to stop in. He wasn’t going to risk some idiot in a mini van ploughing into the side of the BMW because they were too busy checking their order to watch where they were going.

When they were parked, Ronan grabbed for the bags, dropping one onto Adam’s lap, causing a satisfying yelp, before taking the second to his side of the BMW. “Before you start yelling about me paying for food, they’re having a special. It’s cheaper to buy two than one.”

Adam looked at the bag, and then at Ronan, obviously hungry and obviously pissed off. “You could eat the second one later.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and turned down the Murder Squash Greatest Hits that was playing through the radio. Or whatever it was that the BMW had that looked like a radio. Since it accepted almost any music format, even ones that had been created after the BMW, he doubted that whatever was hidden in the dashboard was a real radio. “Leftover burgers are nasty. I’m not eating that shit.”

“Some of us don’t have the option to be picky.”

“Like you’re being now? Eat it, don’t eat it. I don’t care. I’m eating my burger. You can do whatever you want while I’m eating cheese and bacon. If it's still in the bag when I’m done, I’m throwing it away.”

“I know what you’re doing, Lynch.”

“But you’re still going to eat the burger.”

Adam let out a disgruntled sound but he started digging around in the grease spotted bag for the other cheeseburger. The rest of Adam’s expected protests ended with the first bite. He still glared at Ronan, probably because he had been hungry and it was a great burger. Ronan kept his attention away from Adam, knowing that if he looked too smug, Adam would stop eating.

Neither one of them spoke until the burgers were gone, the wrappers shoved in the sacks, and those put in the plastic bag Ronan kept in the car to contain Matthew’s terrible eating habits. After Adam shoved the trash into the back, he leaned against the door, looking at Ronan like he was a Latin phrase he was struggling to translate. “When did you and Carruthers become a thing?”

What the fuck was Adam talking about? Like he’d ever date Carruthers. Ronan doubted that he’d ever date anyone. “When did you lose your sanity? Carruthers and I aren’t a thing.”

“It looked like you were in the gelato shop. He was getting friendly with your tattoo.”

Friendly with his tattoo. The idea of it made his skin crawl even if it was technically true. “Carruthers’ little brother wanted to know if it was real so I let him touch it.”

Adam shifted in the seat, sprawling as much as he ever allowed himself. Ronan couldn’t stop himself from being pleased that Adam was comfortable for once while he also wanted Adam to shut up about their classmate. “If his little brother was curious about your tattoo, why was Tad mauling your back?”

Ronan began to speak, and then realized that Adam was right. It should have been the kid touching the tattoo, not Carruthers. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he realized how elaborate Noah’s con had been. The next time that Noah was solid enough for Ronan to grab, he was going to take another trip out a window.

“Because I’m an idiot.”

“You might want to tell Gansey that.”

“That I’m an idiot? I think he already knows.”

Ronan pretended to ignore Adam’s snort of laughter, tapping his fingers to the faint beat of the Murder Squash song that crept through the speakers. “No, that you and Carruthers aren’t dating.”

Why the fuck would he tell Gansey that? Gansey didn’t have a problem with Ronan being gay, and Ronan assumed that he wouldn’t have a problem with _Tad_ , even if everyone else would think Ronan had lost his mind. Gansey would be supportive of any relationship that made Ronan happy.

Even if Ronan would want another kind of reaction from Gansey related to Ronan and potential boyfriends. “Why would Gansey care if I was dating Carruthers?”

The look Adam gave him was insulting, silently calling Ronan an idiot. “You know that look Gansey got whenever you were around Kavinsky? That's how he looked while Carruthers was pawing you.”

“He had a reason to look like that. Kavinsky was a known felon and Carruthers - ”

“Is as dangerous as a golden retriever puppy,” Adam cut in, watching him like he was one of Aglionby's professors waiting for him to recite the correct answer to some stupid math problem. “So why would Gansey have a problem with you letting Carruthers maul your back?”

“I don’t know, Parrish.” He didn’t. Or he was so used to telling himself that whatever he saw during Gansey’s bouts of Kavinsky hate had been related to the possibility of jail time instead of any other reason that he refused to see it. Whatever the reason, Ronan wasn’t going to say any of those possibilities out loud. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Jesus, Lynch. I didn’t think you were that stupid. If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

Ronan reached for his Coke, annoyed that the ice was already melting. He should dream something to improve the air conditioning. If it worked, he could dream one for the Pig since it was hotter than hell no matter the season.

Adam fidgeted with the frayed knee of his jeans while glancing over at him. His expression shifted from thoughtful to resolved to something that Ronan couldn’t identify. “I thought that getting the Barns back would make you less of an asshole, but it hasn’t.”

Setting his drink back in the cup holder, Ronan tried to figure out what Adam was referring to. He’d been careful to be less abrasive all afternoon since it was Adam’s belated birthday. He’d thought that he managed to be. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Gansey.”

Ronan gave him a ‘what the fuck?’ look as he shifted gears. “What about Gansey?”

“You’ve been treating him like crap since the lawyer handed over the keys to the Barns. You’ve ditched him - us - every time we’ve tried to do something together.”

“I went with him when he wanted to go back to Cabeswater.”

“And you ditched us when we were going to get pizza and watch movies. If it’s not related to Cabeswater, ley lines, or Glendower you disappear on him.” Adam’s fingers tapped restlessly against the arm rest, something that had become more common since the sacrifice. “Look. I’m never going to understand your love affair with the Barns. I never had a place like that so I don’t _get_ it, but I do understand that getting it back doesn’t mean that you treat your best friend like he doesn’t exist.”

Ronan scowled at the abandoned store in front of them. The closed sign hung crookedly on its chain, faded and barely visible through the dusty windows. “I haven’t been treating Gansey like shit.”

“Really?” Adam snarked, his tone warning that whatever he was going to say was going to be vicious. “What about stealing the Pig? Doesn’t that count as treating him like shit.”

Guilt made the air suffocating in the BMW. Ronan forced in a breath, exhaling a curse. “You stole it too, Parrish.”

“Yeah, I stole it to stop Whelk from waking the ley line. You stole it because you were mad that Gansey told you no.”

“That’s not why I did it,” Ronan snapped.

“Then why?”

Ronan opened his mouth to speak, but he knew that he couldn’t explain it. Not to Adam. Maybe not even to himself. Adam waited until the silence was louder than the air conditioning and the Murder Squash song. Instead he started the BMW and put it into gear. “You’re working tomorrow?”

Adam sighed and lifted his head from the passenger window. “Yeah. The afternoon shift.”

“You still need to get home and sleep.”

Usually Adam would complain about his mother henning, but instead he nodded and took a drink of his Coke. The silence began again, cloying and crawling along Ronan’s skin until he dropped Adam off at St. Agnes.

**# # #**

Ronan knew that he should head back to Monmouth. Especially after what Adam had said about him ditching Gansey, but staying there while his thoughts wouldn’t slow down was impossible. Gansey would understand. He’d forgive him for needing to lose himself to the purr of the BMW’s engine and the light shifting from afternoon to the comfort of night.

He’d almost allowed himself to forget what Adam had said about Gansey when the left side of the BMW started to turn too cold to be natural. Automatically, he lifted his hand from the gear shift, holding it out for Noah. Chills crawled up his arm and Noah went from hazy to completely visible.

“Are you here to bitch at me too?” Ronan asked, trying to sound angry, but only managing tired.

“No. I thought you might need company.”

“And Gansey doesn’t?” It was harsh, and Ronan wasn’t sure if he that hostility for meant for Noah or himself.

Noah shifted, making it obvious that he wasn’t really in contact with the leather upholstery. “He’s in the middle of his research. He won’t notice that he’s alone for another hour or two.”

Alone. Adam said he was being an asshole, leaving Gansey alone all the time. He should turn around and head back to Monmouth. Swearing under his breath, he chose a turn off at random, following the barely paved road farther away from both Henrietta and the Barns.

Noah didn’t comment on the fact that they were heading _away_ from Gansey, staring out at the wash of headlights in front of them. Ronan knew that Noah could outwait him. He could stay quiet and spooky until Ronan finally had to speak. It was easier to say something and get it over with than to get pissed off by Noah’s silence. “Did you hear what Adam said?”

“About Carruthers or about the Pig?”

Ronan wasn’t surprised that Noah’d been there for the whole conversation. He couldn’t be mad about it either. If he was a ghost, he’d listen in to other people’s arguments too.

He considered which he needed an answer for. He had the feeling he already knew the answer about Carruthers, but Ronan was ready to keep pretending that he didn’t. The Pig was something else. Something that he actually needed an answer to since now that everything was over, Ronan wasn’t sure why he’d stolen the Camaro. He’d shuffled through a dozen reasons and excuses but none of them really fit. “The Pig.”

Noah made a sound that from Gansey would be thoughtful, but from Noah, it was vaguely creepy. “Adam’s wrong. You didn’t steal it because he told you that you couldn’t drive it. You did it because you were alone.”

That was almost it, but that wasn’t the real reason. In the past, Gansey had gone to D.C., leaving the Pig at Monmouth and Ronan had never thought of stealing it even if he could. It’d be easy to hot wire the Camaro if he really wanted to, but Gansey always came home to the Pig undisturbed.

No, something else had set him into motion. He’d been alone, but the reason for that alone-ness had caused Ronan to do more than test the keys that he’d dreamed.

He’d stolen it because Gansey had chosen Adam. Because he was hurting from being exiled from his home and his closest friend. Kavinsky had been goading him to race and he couldn’t stand the idea of beating K while Gansey and Adam were gone. He’d stolen it because he’d missed Gansey and the Pig was the closest he could get to being near him.

Ronan scowled into the night, hating that answer, ready to hate himself, but he couldn’t. Not because of Gansey. He could hate what he’d done and how he’d hurt Gansey, but he knew that his best friend would never want him to hate himself.

“Fuck,” he said, the word doing nothing to free him from the secrets that Noah kept exposing.

“And the thing with Carruthers?” Noah asked, too innocent, too knowing, for someone who’d conned him.

“The thing that you set up?”

Noah made a rude noise that definitely meant that he’d be learning to fly in the near future. “Answer the question, Ronan.”

“I don’t know.”

“Really?” Noah shifted around, gaping at him in a way that was comical but also reminded Ronan that the teen beside him wasn’t exactly alive. “You haven’t figured it out?” He sounded like Matthew did right before he pulled a prank on Declan.

“Figured what out?” he sighed, tiredness settling on his shoulders. Not the exhaustion that led to sleep or dreaming, but the type that meant he was worn out. He should head back to town before he was a danger to the BMW.

“Why Gansey would be glaring at you and Carruthers.”

“No, I haven’t figured it out.” He risked a glare at Noah while searching for a driveway where he could turn around.

“If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

“That’s what Adam said when I asked him.”

“Adam’s smarter than all of us, but you’ll figure it out soon.”

Ronan should be pissed off by that answer, but he was more curious than annoyed. “Promise?”

“I promise. Now go home before you fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Which home is that?”

Noah flickered, steadying for a moment before answering. “The one where Gansey is.” He flickered again and disappeared, leaving Ronan alone with the BMW and the uncomfortable thoughts that he still couldn’t avoid.


	6. Chapter 6

Gansey was still trying to decipher his feelings related to Ronan and Carruthers and his conversation with Blue when Helen called to give him her weekly update on what was happening in D.C. At least that was how she justified the calls. Gansey secretly thought that she was checking in on him, a theory that was verified when she didn’t mention anything related to their mother’s political campaign and asked, “How’s your boyfriend?”

Holding back the annoyed sigh that would earn him a reminder to mind his manners, he sat back in his chair. “You know that Adam’s not my boyfriend, but he’s all right.”

“Not that one. I know he’s fine. I talked to him yesterday afternoon before his shift at the factory.”

Helen and Adam? It seemed that this week was filled with strange, potentially romantic encounters. He almost told her that Adam was underage, and then remembered the gelato celebration the day before. And Ronan and Carruthers.

Grateful that she couldn’t see his grimace, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Which supposed boyfriend are you referring to?” He knew that she couldn’t be referring to Noah since she couldn’t see Noah, but he still had to ask.

“The other one. The one with the tattoos and the heart breaker eyes.”

Gansey wondered what Ronan would say to having Helen describe him in such terms. The profanity would probably be eloquent and violent even by Lynch standards. This time the sigh did escape, slipping free as he again thought of what he’d seen at the gelato shop. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he said softly, hoping that Helen would drop the matter.

He knew that she wouldn’t. Helen was too persistent for that, but she did make a sound that was sympathetic and strangely kind. “I was hoping that he was. We all were. You were so excited when you introduced us to him.”

He had been excited. Ronan had been his first real friend his own age. During his travels, he’d befriended people, but all had been part of the quest. Each had some knowledge of Glendower or ley lines. They knew the countryside that Gansey needed to traverse or they knew scholars who could help him on his search. He’d cared about them, but there had been a connection to Glendower that had drawn him to them.

Ronan had been the first exception to that rule. He’d seen Ronan at school and desperately needed to talk to him. Not about Welsh history or Glendower, even if those subjects had come up in that initial conversation, but because he wanted to know Ronan. He wanted Ronan to know him. He’d thought that Ronan wanted the same of him.

They were friends. Nothing more. Blue and his family were mistaken. There was no reason for him to feel hurt by the intimacy Ronan had shared with Carruthers in the gelato shop. There was no reason for the ache in his chest when Helen mentioned those early days with Ronan.

Pushing aside those emotions with an ease that Blue would find appalling and a Gansey would approve of, he made sure that his voice wouldn’t betray any of his earlier turmoil. “Why did all of you think that we’d end up dating?”

“You never brought anyone home before.”

“At the time, the majority of my friends lived thousands of miles away.”

“Dick.” The tone almost made him wince. It did make him automatically pull him out of his dejected slouch and want to straighten the items scattered across his desk. “You’re trying to distract me.”

He was. He couldn’t deny it so he remained silent as she added, “You were going to school at the time. You had acquaintances and classmates that you could have introduced us to. Instead, you brought home Ronan and you were over the moon for him.”

Gansey began to deny it, but he knew that Helen would cut through his arguments with ease. “I may have been infatuated with him,” he admitted, knowing that saying anything else would cause Helen to pounce on his words with terrifying tenacity. “But that’s in the past and that doesn’t mean that Ronan felt the same way.”

“He did.” Helen’s voice held the kind of certainty that Gansey rarely heard outside of family reunions or during his mother’s campaign speeches. “He looked at you like you were his world.”

The words hurt more than Gansey would have ever expected. If they were true. . . If Niall hadn’t died. . .

“Were is the key word in that sentence,” he interrupted, needing to stop her before he started feeling wistful for something he couldn’t have. “Now that he has the Barns back, that’s his whole world.”

“For now, it is. Once he’s gotten used to having it, he’ll start thinking of you that way again.”

Maybe he would. That shimmering hope was alluring, but Gansey wasn’t certain that he could believe that it was possible. Even knowing how much the Barns meant to Ronan and how much he needed that sanctuary, it still seemed improbable that he’d consider Gansey in that manner again. Not after everything that had happened after Niall’s death. Not after spending months declaring that Gansey was like family to him.  
“Ronan looking at me that way doesn’t explain why everyone thought we would end up dating.”

“He looked at you like you were his whole world and you looked at him like he was the key to you finding Glendower.” Before he could deny her words, Helen added, “You still do.”

He could imagine her leaning forward in her chair, giving him the stern, compassionate look that always reminded him of how much she'd look like their mother in a few decades. “You care about Adam and that girl stray you picked up, but not the way you care about him. He’s always beside you. No one else gets that spot unless you’re forced to give it to someone else. No one else gets to be that close to you, Dick. Only Ronan, and it’s been that way since the two of you met.”

“That doesn’t mean we’ll end up together,” he countered, hating how resigned he sounded, how it made him feel almost wounded.

“It also doesn’t mean that you won’t end up together. Be patient You’ve been through the worst with him. Now that he has the Barns, things might get better.”

Gansey knew better than to argue, and she might be right. He’d seen hints of who Ronan might become during that surreal moment that he’d given Gansey the dreamed Pig. He might see more of that version of Ronan if Helen was right and the novelty of owning the Barns wore off eventually. Unfortunately, Gansey doubted that Ronan would ever lose his fascination with his home or ever not need it as his personal sanctuary.

He must have said a variation of that thought aloud since Helen cut through his thoughts to gently, but firmly correct him. “Both you and the Barns are his sanctuary.”

Helen might be saying that because she was trying to make him feel better, or because she believed it, but Gansey knew that he didn’t have that particular role in Ronan's life. “I’m not his sanctuary, Helen.”

“Yes, you are, but the two of you haven’t realized it yet. How else could you have helped him through all the drama of the past year if you weren’t his sanctuary?”

“Calling it drama lessens how hurt he was.”

There was a pause, a silence that seemed chagrined. Helen made a quiet noise as she shook off her brief distress. “You’re right. It does. He went through more than I can imagine. Both of you have. Which is why we think you’ll eventually end up together.”

“We?”

“Mother and father always assumed that you and Ronan would start dating. She even planned how she would spin it for the campaign.”

Something cold twisted in his stomach, accompanied by a sense of resignation. Of course his mother would use his potential relationship to improve her political aspirations. She’d probably assume that it’d be no different than having Gansey attend her fund raising functions. He was clean-cut, scholarly, polite. Add his sexuality to the list of possible virtues and their mother would win over most of her constituents and a few Democrats as well. “She was going to use my potential relationship to win more votes?”

Gansey expected Helen to sound annoyed, the way she always did when he questioned the seemingly endless rounds of schmoozing and political smiles, but instead she seemed tired. Or disheartened. “No. She’d been talking to her PR people to find a way to keep both of you out of the spotlight until after the election. She had hoped that they might be able to keep the paparazzi away long enough that no one would notice that her son was dating until after you both graduated.”

“She - all of you - were going to protect us?”

“Of course, Dick. She might use us for photo opportunities, but she wouldn’t use your relationship for her own gain. Especially not after his father died. She knew what the reporters would do if they found out about the murder.”

Gansey nodded absentmindedly and then realized Helen couldn’t see him. “It would have destroyed him to have it dragged out into the public again.” There hadn’t been much about Niall’s murder in the papers or on TV. A small town horror that was quickly ignored in favor of crimes in more populated areas, but it would have become front page news if they’d started dating. At least it would have if his mother hadn’t been planning ways to distract the press.

The idea that his infatuation had been that obvious was embarrassing and thought provoking. “They were probably disappointed that it was Ronan and not Adam that caught my eye.”

“They want you with whoever makes you happy. So do I. And eventually Adam may become part of the Gansey family.”

Maybe he should warn Adam or try to warn Helen away from making any untoward advances. He knew that Adam hated when he meddled, but since his sister was involved, he decided that it could be allowed. “Adam hasn’t much experience with dating.”

“I know. That’s part of the fun.”

What Helen thought might be fun in regards to relationships, especially potential relationships with one of his best friends, was something that he really didn’t want to think about. “I’m hanging up before I learn something that is mentally scarring about one of you.”

“You’re being a prude.”

“I’m being a potentially horrified brother who is hanging up now. Good bye Helen.”

“Good bye, Dick. Don’t give up hope. Not until you’re sure that there isn’t a chance that it won’t work out.”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Despite Noah’s attempts at keeping him near Monmouth and Adam’s accusations, Ronan fled to the Barns every morning before Gansey was aware enough to realize that he was gone. The search for Glendower was on hold thanks to Sargent and Parrish’s work schedules and some delay with the access rights that Gansey was always worrying about.

The delay meant that Ronan could go to the Barns with minimal guilt. He knew that he was being a coward, but he couldn’t stop himself from escaping Monmouth as soon as dawn began to lighten the sky. Each day he slipped away, telling himself that he needed to be at the Barns, needed to restore his familial home, but he knew it was so he didn’t have to face his two closest friends and confront the secret that Noah had pulled from him.

He reminded himself that he was allowed to leave without telling Gansey. He hadn’t done anything wrong as he’d slipped past him like a thief. He tried to convince himself that he’d done it so that Gansey could have a few more precious hours of rest when he knew it was so that he didn’t have to see his disappointment when Ronan told him that he was going to the Barns instead of spending the day with him.

If he could get away unseen, then he could enjoy most of the morning at his home, mucking out stables and taming the creatures that hid in the woods that surrounded the fields. The problem was after the animals were fed and the day’s To Do list of basic repairs to the house and yard was completed, he had time to think. Time for his imagination to conjure up Adam’s voice calling him an asshole and his accusations that he was ditching Gansey.

It was easy for him to ignore being called an asshole since Ronan had always known that was true. The idea that he was hurting Gansey by leaving Monmouth in favor of the Barns stung. No matter how he justified his trips to Singer’s Falls, he knew that he’d left Gansey behind.

Worse, for the first time in his life, the quiet of the Barns began to feel heavy. The house had always been full of rowdy boys and his serene mother. On the rare times that Niall was home, he’d filled the house until it seemed ready to burst at the seams. And then Ronan had brought Gansey to the Barns and something that none of them had known was missing had fallen into place.

Ronan knew that he could never have that again. Even if they found a way to wake Aurora, there would be pieces missing from that life, changes made that would alter things forever, but they could have a home again.

Or he’d assumed so when the first time he’d legally set foot on the Barns after the new will was accepted.

Now he wasn’t so sure. He tried to imagine his brothers in the house, their presence warming the empty spaces and creating new memories. But something was missing that he didn’t acknowledge until he realized that every time he entered the house, he expected Gansey to be standing beside him. As Ronan ranged through the fields and relearned the woods that bordered the meadows, he pointed out sights he wanted to share with Gansey, and then realized that his best friend wasn’t there.

Gansey had visited the Barns for only a couple of months before Niall’s death, but his presence was tangled up in every bit of the Barns. Everywhere he looked there were memories of Gansey. Every one of them made his heart ache in a way that he needed to deny. He fought against those memories as afternoon turned to night and day started to make itself known. Finally he gave up on his struggle with the past and with the guilt over leaving Gansey, exhaustion from hard work and from a harder conscience forcing him back to Monmouth.

# # #

Ronan crept into Monmouth as dawn began to lighten the sky. He shut the door carefully, trying to be as quiet as the battered metal would allow. He doubted that Gansey was asleep, but he wouldn’t risk waking his friend. As he moved farther into the main area, he glanced over at the bed. As expected, it was rumbled and empty. Gansey had attempted to sleep, but his insomnia had refused to let him rest. He checked the desk next, found that spot empty, then turned toward mini Henrietta.

Gansey sat in the middle of his model, slouching in a way that he never allowed himself during daylight hours. Noah was beside him, barely visible in the darkness of the room. When he noticed Ronan, he made a gesture that after months of living together Ronan translated as Gansey was mostly asleep.

Slowly making his way through the tiny streets, he knelt down next to Gansey. As soon as he was close enough, Gansey leaned against him, eyes half closed. “I didn’t think you’d come back,” he muttered, his voice drowsy and relieved.

The words weren’t an accusation. Ronan knew that, but it didn’t stop the guilt that tightened his throat. He knew that Gansey meant ‘I didn’t think you’d come back tonight’ but his tone made it easy to imagine that he’d meant that he’d doubted that Ronan would ever return.

“Well, I did.” His own voice sounded too rough, but Gansey was too far gone to notice. His eyes were nearly closed and it was obvious that his friend would finally be able to get a few hours of sleep. “C’mon. Let’s get to bed.”

He helped Gansey to his feet, taking most of his weight as they wove through mini Henrietta. Gansey made a vaguely unhappy sound, either over the motion or the broken buildings he still needed to restore before they made it to the bed. He sank onto the mattress, barely protesting when Ronan pulled off the boat shoes that Gansey had worn to protect his feet from the rough floor.

Gansey took off his glasses, setting them on the crate that he used as a bedside table. Somehow he looked different without the glasses. Different than when he wore his contacts. His expression seemed more open, eyes filled with a warmth that Ronan hadn’t seen - or had forced himself not to see - before. Rumpled and unpolished, his smile was as soft as the old t-shirt he’d put on when he’d first tried to sleep. It reminded Ronan of how Gansey had smiled at him when they’d chased fireflies at the Barns.

Something in his chest gave a painful, demanding lurch. A familiar anger demanded to tear away the feelings that hid behind his ribs, but Ronan clamped down on that response. He couldn’t get mad now, not when Gansey was looking up at him, trusting him to guide him into sleep.

The anger turned to something gentler, protective. Something that he would have labeled as familial if Gansey hadn’t stretched, shoulders flexing beneath faded cotton, years of rowing written in the sharp lines of muscle that Ronan had spent just as many years ignoring.

A brief, very un-platonic image flashed through Ronan’s mind. It lingered like the taste of mint on his tongue.

Mint.

Fuck. 

# # #

When he was sure that Gansey would stay in bed, Ronan headed for his room. After an afternoon and night spent at the Barns, Ronan felt that he could safely sleep at Monmouth during the daylight hours. When the light shone through the thrift store curtains and the worst of his nightmares had been tamed by time spent at home, he could trust himself not to dream.

He should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

This time it wasn’t hornets or Night Horrors that met him in his dreamscape, it was a sixteen year old Gansey at a version of the Barns that hadn’t existed in over a year. The differences between the dreamed Gansey and the one that he’d just put to bed were subtle, but obvious. At least to Ronan.

There was a lightness to this Gansey that he would have believed was part of his imagination if he hadn’t seen it in the past. There was none of the sternness that had become part of their interactions since Ronan had moved into Monmouth. None of the sadness or resignation that occasionally dimmed Gansey’s eyes. This Gansey nearly vibrated with excitement, almost dancing as they moved through the apple orchard behind the house. He chattered about something, probably Glendower, as they moved among the trees. A painful fondness caught Ronan that he remembered from the past and attempted to squash in the present.

Eventually they stopped beneath the oldest trees in the orchard, or the one that Ronan remembered being there the longest. It might have been a real tree or one of Niall’s dreams, but it still spread its branches over them, red fruit gleaming faintly among the leaves.

Memory and dream collided as he remembered Gansey’s first visit to the Barns and their trip to the orchard. Gansey turned toward him, giving him a smile - the rare one that never appeared at political gatherings or at Aglionby - and offered him something.

Then and now, Ronan almost expected it to be an apple, but memory Gansey hadn’t done anything so cliched. No, he’d offered Ronan something far more dangerous. Seductive. He’d given Ronan his journal, offering his soul to him to be read.

Taking the book, Ronan flipped past pages of careful handwriting and bits of photocopies to a page that he knew wasn’t in the real journal. This page reminded him of the illuminated manuscripts that Gansey showed him late at night when the research battled his insomnia. The drawing was more detailed than those images, but it still reminded him of that style.

It stretched from edge to edge. A crown and a king. A raven and a magician. Both bound in a border of Celtic knot work that was decorated with thorny brambles and apple blossoms that matched the style of the tattoo that stretched along Ronan’s back. The petals looked silky against the cream colored paper. The thorns sharp enough to draw blood if Ronan ran a finger along their edges.

The king wore historically inaccurate wire framed glasses. The magician’s wrist was banded in black leather. The king held up one hand, a glowing object resting on his palm that Ronan knew represented his heart. The magician’s actions seemed more ambiguous. He could be accepting the gift or . . .

Ronan forced his attention away from the page, at what it bared, to find Gansey watching him. For a moment, he looked hopeful. He glowed, seeming to be as radiant as the gilded heart on the page. Then slowly he began to dim. The hope from earlier flared briefly, then turned to resignation. He gave him the same sad look that Gansey wore whenever Ronan came home with another speeding ticket or when he caught Ronan skipping class. The captivating boy that had inspired Ronan’s restless, guilty dreams transformed into the tired young man who accepted the responsibilities that Ronan refused to let Declan bear.

He hadn’t known, hadn’t seen. . . Not until this Gansey had changed within a handful of heartbeats.

The shock of it startled him out of the dream.

He woke, staring up at the cracked ceiling, heart too heavy in his chest as he waited for the paralysis to slip away. As muscle control slowly returned, his fingers flexed, crumpling something against his palm.

When he could sit up, he slowly released the object in his hand. He already knew what it would be, but he still dreaded looking. Relaxing his fingers, the crumpled page from the journal exposed the King offering his heart to the Magician while the Magician. . .

Ronan didn’t know what the fuck the Magician was going to do. Probably hurt the King the way he’d been hurting Gansey. The way he’d been hurting himself by denying what he’d known all along.

Noah had been right. His feelings weren’t platonic. They never had been.

He could have lived with that truth and ignored it, if he hadn’t seen the obvious hope lighting up memory Gansey’s eyes. And it _had_ been a memory. Ronan had spent enough time in dream worlds to know that what he’d seen hadn’t been wishful thinking. Once upon a time, Gansey had looked at him with that same desperate hope, but Ronan had been too blind to realize what his friend had offered him.

But now he knew, and it set uncomfortably with the secret that Noah had exposed. Gansey had offered both his journal and his heart to him, but Ronan had only recognized one of those gifts.

As he stared down at the Magician, the image blurred as almost translucent fingers obscuring the page. Ronan looked up at Noah, anger at himself, at Noah, adding a sharpness to his tone. “You knew.”

Noah shrugged and attempted to smooth the crumpled page. “It isn’t my secret to tell.”

Ronan knew that Noah would probably answer with more vague bullshit, but he still had to ask. “Does he still feel that way?”

Noah’s hand stilled, the rest of him did something that Ronan didn’t want to think about that proved that his friend was no longer among the living. Then Noah gave a faded shrug, becoming completely Noah-like again.

He waited for some verbal response to accompany the shrug, but Noah went back to playing with the dreamed page.

Letting out a frustrated sound, he was about to tell Noah to _say something_ when he realized that Noah had already given his answer. _It isn’t my secret to tell._ If Noah wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t that an answer? Didn’t that mean it was still a secret? Didn’t ‘isn’t’ instead of ‘wasn’t’ imply that Gansey might still feel the same way?

Adam had basically told him the secret while they’d sat in the BMW drinking watered down Cokes. Gansey wouldn’t have been pissed about Carruthers if he didn’t still feel something for him. Ronan wouldn’t be wandering around the Barns like he was still missing his home if his feelings for Gansey were as platonic as he pretended.

“I have to fix this.”

“Finally,” Noah muttered, looking smudgy and pleased. Ronan wasn’t quite sure how he managed both, but that seemed to be one of Noah’s talents.

“How do I do it or is that one of those secrets you can’t tell me?”

“It’s not a secret, but it’s something you need to figure out on your own.”

Making a disgusted noise, Ronan stared down at the dreamed page, thinking of the past, of the home that he’d stolen back for himself and his family. The place where Gansey had first offered him his heart.

The solution was so simple that he shouldn’t have even needed to ask Noah. He couldn’t relive the past and the decisions that he’d unintentionally made, but he could recreate and maybe get a second chance.


	8. Chapter 8

Exhaustion had finally won the battle against insomnia. After what felt like days without true sleep, Gansey had managed to snatch a few, precious hours before morning. He’d even remembered to take off his glasses before falling into bed, but without the correction to his vision, Monmouth was a blurry patchwork of shadow and light.

Sometimes, that was a blessing. It turned the world softer, let him drowse, the usual frantic pace of his thoughts turning slow, giving him the illusion that he could sleep a few more hours.

He rarely did, but he clung to that possibility. The warmth through the echoing space of Monmouth promised a scorching summer day, the gentle blur that surrounded him beckoned him toward unconsciousness. His eyes drifted closed. Maybe this time he could actually go back to sleep.

For an endless time he lazed in the darkness behind his eyelids. He realized that he may have achieved that goal when a shuffling sound broke through the haze, jerking him into alertness. Automatically, he thought of the duplicate licenses spilling across the floor, the ruin of mini Henrietta. Someone _invading_ his home again.

Sitting up, Gansey squinted into the brightness, trying to force his eyes to focus, but the silhouette moving toward him refused to become more than a frustrating blur. Then a small shape shifted on the figure’s shoulder. Ronan. Chainsaw.

Letting out a sigh, he scrubbed his hands over his face. “God, Lynch. You startled me.”

Ronan didn’t answer, standing beside the battered, wooden fruit crate that served as a nightstand, and carefully handed him his glasses. The world blurred into clarity, causing his head to ache briefly, allowing him to witness Ronan’s pleased smirk.

He waited a beat - he always waited for Gansey to regain his mental footing after he put on his glasses - before casually asking, “Want to spend the day at the Barns?”

Automatically, he began to say no, and then he remembered that the Barns was no longer forbidden to Ronan. A wistfulness tightening around his heart accompanied the realization. While trying to keep Ronan stable while he lashed through his grief, while feeling abandoned as his best friend returned to his rightful kingdom, he’d tried to ignore the truth that he’d been exiled along with Ronan. 

The Barns hadn’t been his home, but it was one of the places that he’d truly felt welcomed, safe. None of the Lynches had cared about the Gansey family’s political influence or wealth. They had seen a strange teenager and accepted his eccentricities without second thought .

He’d never allowed himself to show that loss to any of the Lynch brothers, but late at night, he’d felt it keenly. Each time he’d refused to allow Ronan to return to the Barns, he’d felt a pang of homesickness as well.

It felt strange to be homesick for the place that was stealing away his best friend, but Gansey couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest or the anticipation that coiled through him at the thought of returning to the place where so many of his best memories with Ronan had been made.

Sitting straighter, he noticed the tightness in Ronan’s posture. The way he tried to seem relaxed, but was betrayed by the tightness of his shoulders and the subtle flex of his jaw. It was the stance he used when confronting Declan over something Aglionby related.

He expected a refusal, Gansey realized. He truly thought that Gansey would say no.

After so many nights of getting orange juice instead of returning home, was it really a surprise that Ronan thought he’d again be denied something related to the Barns?

Gansey considered different ways that he could smooth away that tension, using words to try to heal the wounds that Niall’s final wishes had caused, but he knew that nothing could wipe away that heartache. Instead, he shoved aside the rumpled sheets. “I need to shower first.”

Ronan’s eyes widened, expression slack for a moment before his usual indifference settled over him again. There was something about it that made Gansey want to ask Ronan why he’d invited him to the Barns, but he knew that if he did, Ronan would withdraw again. They’d fight and Ronan would storm out and he would be alone with books about dead, Welsh Kings and maps of Henrietta’s property lines.

Getting out of bed, he moved to the old steamer trunk that he used for a dresser. Bent over the side while looking for fresh clothes, an odd sound caused him to stop. Looking up at Ronan, he expected Chainsaw to have abandoned them for some discarded scrap of paper to destroy. Instead, Gansey found her still on Ronan’s shoulder, the source of the noise seeming to come from her teenage perch.

Ronan was staring at Gansey’s bare feet, scowling in a way that didn’t match his earlier cheer. It made him want to find his socks or shoes instead of his underwear. Wiggling his toes against the floor, he waited for Ronan to comment, unsure of why he was so fixated on his feet. He’d seen him barefoot and in his boxers before. There was no reason for that reaction.

When Ronan didn’t comment on his state of undress, he grabbed a handful of relatively clean clothes, headed for the shower, hoping that Ronan’s brighter mood would return by the time Gansey was washed and dressed.

# # #

The strangeness that had distracted Ronan earlier disappeared after they’d eaten a breakfast of brightly colored cereal that Noah enjoyed vicariously through them. Gansey had just enough time to grab his travel kit, shoving underwear and socks into a side pocket before Ronan was almost dragging him out of Monmouth.

No, dragging had negative connotations that their exit lacked. Ronan was enthusiastic, not surly, almost bounding with excitement as they moved toward the BMW.

That was another strange detail that left him feeling off balance, but Ronan insisted on the BMW instead of the Pig. As Gansey placed his bag in the back seat, Noah materialized near the trunk. Leaning against the fender he looked solid enough that his slacks should have left a mark in the dust that made the BMW’s paint look steel dust instead of deep black.

Ronan looked over the roof at Noah, expression conflicted before he asked, “Do you want to come with us?”

Carefully shutting the door, Gansey tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that the question caused. Disappointment and something akin to jealousy tangled in his chest, forcing him to acknowledge how much he _wanted_ time alone with Ronan. He loved Noah, but he’d wanted the day to be just Ronan and himself like things had been before Niall’s death. 

Glancing over at Noah, he waited for an answer. He was sure that Ronan didn’t notice the change in his expression, but Noah’s pale eyebrows crept upward when he caught Gansey watching. He knew that Noah wouldn’t betray a confidence, but cold wariness still settled in his stomach as he waited for Noah to answer. 

“Nah. The energy there is - ” He lifted a hand and made a see-sawing motion. “I’m not sure if I could stick around.”

Ronan accepted the answer easily while Gansey wondered if Noah was being completely truthful. Whether it was a lie or reality, it was a kindness that Gansey gratefully accepted.

As he opened the passenger door, Noah’s hand brushed against his arm, almost causing Gansey to shiver. The look Noah gave him was an odd mix of empathy and ‘I told you so’. Gansey almost expected him to vocalize that thought, but instead Noah said, “Have fun.”

For a moment, he felt a pang of guilt at the idea of Noah staying at Monmouth. They’d done it before and Noah never seemed to mind, but after the past few weeks, Gansey understood how hurtful that could be. “We will,” Gansey answered, forcing himself to ignore the remorse and relief that he felt at Noah not coming with them.

“I understand,” Noah whispered, fading briefly in the warm morning sunlight before becoming more solid again. The words made him wonder how much Noah saw, how much more he understood than any of them gave him credit for.

“C’mon, old man.” Noah flickered again as if surprised by Ronan’s complaint, and then steadied as he leaned a palm against the smooth metal of the trunk, making a shooing motion toward Gansey with his other hand.

Climbing into the passenger seat, he caught Noah’s reflection in the side mirror, still slouching against sleek black paint. He thought he saw Noah wink at him before their roommate disappeared completely. Ronan twisted around in his seat, checking the backseat and then the spot outside where Noah was before starting the car, causing Gansey to smile despite the selfishness curling around his thoughts. Ronan might throw Noah out of windows, but he was careful with him in other, unexpected ways.

Ronan’s invitation to Noah lingered in his chest, vibrating mournfully along his nerves as they headed out of Henrietta and toward the Barns. He knew he should ignore those emotions, but he kept thinking of Noah. Of how he’d tried to encourage Gansey to be more honest with Ronan. If he wasn’t honest, he might harm their friendship and there would be no chance at what Noah and Helen had implied might be possible

“Are you going to ask the others to go with us?” Gansey asked, finally giving in to the impulse that Noah had set in motion, relieved that his voice didn’t sound as petulant as he felt.

Ronan’s gaze flickered from the beige sedan in front of them to Gansey and back again. “Nah. I’m only taking you today.”

“But you asked Noah.” Again, his voice held only mild curiosity. His parents would be proud of his restraint.

Ronan shrugged, accelerating from a stop light with less aggression than usual. “Noah’s different. He’s. . .” Ronan struggled for a moment, obviously trying to find the right word. “Stuck.”

Gansey nodded, jealousy transforming to understanding and empathy.

“And Noah knows when we need time to ourselves. The others. . .”

Ronan’s voice trailed off so Gansey added, “Don’t quite understand that we need that.”

“Yeah.” Ronan glanced at him again with that same strangeness that had accompanied the invitation to the Barns. He still couldn’t interpret its meaning, but it soothed away the last hints of jealousy.

Before he could say anything else, Ronan reached for the radio, turning on the Bluetooth adapter that should not be compatible with a BMW of older vintage. Gansey braced himself for some obnoxious mix of base and nonsensical lyrics, but instead, something soft and lilting crept from the speakers. A song that Gansey remembered Ronan practicing for the competitions, one that he’d taught Gansey during his first trip to the Barns.

He waited, breathless with something that felt similar to vertigo, for Ronan’s reaction to the music. He didn’t sing, but Gansey hadn’t really expected that. He _did_ hum along with the haunting melody. Once he knew that Ronan wasn’t going to turn off the music, he picked up the tune as well. Ronan smiled, but didn’t comment, even when Gansey occasionally forgot a note, letting one song drift into another as they headed toward Ronan’s home.


	9. Chapter 9

As they drove from Henrietta to Singer’s Falls, Ronan felt like he was in the middle of Cabeswater. The past and the present were colliding, creating something that was exciting and potentially terrifying. Part of that was because they were in the BMW instead of the Pig. The BMW was usually Ronan’s solitary domain, but it seemed right that he was the one driving instead of Gansey. 

The first time that Gansey had visited the Barns, Ronan had driven him, grinning the whole way over being able to introduce his best friend to his family and at Niall allowing him to borrow the BMW. 

He’d been so proud of being given that honor.

The memory should have hurt. It did along the edges, but it was a faint throb of sadness that made the happiness of the past and the anticipation of the future seem brighter. More real. Grounding him in the now just as much as the hum of the BMW’s engines and the feeling of the steering wheel beneath his hands.

As he heedlessly navigated the twists and turns that led him home, he glanced over at Gansey whenever the road allowed. The closer they came to the Barns, the lighter he seemed. The weariness seemed to disappear until he looked his real age instead of like the old man he became in Henrietta or when he was dealing with Declan. 

Ronan couldn’t remember him looking like that since he’d moved into Monmouth, except when they first found Cabeswater.

When the farmhouse came into sight, he risked another glance toward Gansey. His heart gave a sharp painful thump as Gansey began to smile. It was the smile that only those closest to him were allowed to see. The one that turned the polished godlike being into someone so painfully real that it usually caused Ronan to rage. But today he couldn’t find that anger, not when Gansey was giving Ronan’s family home the type of look he saved for works of magic and miracles. 

This was what had been missing. He’d thought it had been Matthew and Declan. It was, but it had been Gansey too. Now the Barns could be a home again. Or as much as it could be until he could find a way to wake his mother. It could be what Ronan had refused to allow himself to dream, afraid that he’d destroy something he loved so dearly.

He should hate that realization. He should deny it until he could pretend that it wasn’t true. But his secret had been torn from him and it seemed pointless to keep fighting against it. 

Spilling out of the BMW as soon as he parked, he grinned, impatient and excited as Gansey fumbled with the seat belt. He felt like he had the first time he’d brought Gansey to the Barns. Excited to share the magic of his home with someone who would love it and protect it as much as he did. Certain that he could trust this person with the most important, most hidden parts, of his life. “Hurry up, Old Man.” 

Heading for the back of the car as Gansey grabbed his bag, Ronan stopped when he saw the dust coating the slick paint marred with fingerprints. “What the fuck?” 

Staring down at the stripes of clean, shining black, he realized that they spelled out the words ‘WASH ME’.

Who the fuck . . . No one in town would dare touch the BMW. 

Then he remembered Noah had been leaning against the back. He must have defaced the BMW while Ronan had asked him to come with them. Ronan hadn’t seen him move, but he knew that Noah could do spooky shit when he wanted to. Spirit writing or whatever the fuck Noah’s prank should be called. 

Scowling down at the trunk, he imagined different ways he could throw Noah out the window. Or off the roof. The roof would be better.

Gansey moved to stand beside him, shaking his head in amusement as he read the message. “Looks like Noah had a suggestion for us.”

Cursing under his breath, Ronan popped the trunk and started pulling out shopping bags. Gansey stared at its contents, then he blinked slowly in disbelief. “Groceries?” 

Ronan almost laughed at Gansey’s confusion, but he got it. He never went shopping for whatever they needed at Monmouth unless Gansey asked. Even then, he usually didn’t go unless Gansey went with him. He’d probably assumed that this was a simple trip to the Barns. He didn’t know that Ronan was planning to create something new without dreaming.

“Yeah. Groceries.” He made sure that the words didn’t sound sarcastic. No edge to them to cause Gansey to think that he was unwelcome.

Gansey shook his head at it all before grabbing a couple bags. “What caused this?”

“I threw almost everything out. It’s been sitting for months. If it’d been opened before it was probably stale or had bugs in it.” 

Gansey nodded, but still looked confused. Since they rarely ate anything that wasn’t cooked in one pot or in the microwave, it was weird. But they both could cook. Ronan hadn’t done more than reheat leftovers in months, but he remembered the basics. He remembered what Aurora had made regularly and could easily recreate those meals from memory. If it’d been Matthew’s favorite then Ronan had demanded to learn how to make it as soon as his mother let him help her in the kitchen. 

Gansey didn’t mind simple things. He might even remember the dinners that Aurora had made for them. He might think of it as part of the Barns and what it’d been like before.

It took two trips to bring everything in and the sacks took up most of the kitchen counters and table. After hesitating a few seconds, Gansey began setting groceries on the counter while Ronan started putting things away. He made sure that everything was where Aurora would be able to find if - no when - she woke. It’d be the same as before, or as close to it as he could manage.

Looking over his shoulder, Ronan watched Gansey do his weird thing of sorting the food by what type it was. And where it was located. Somehow Gansey still remembered where things had been in the kitchen before. He barely made any mistakes, but Gansey’d always had a memory for details most people didn’t pay attention to. But he’d paid attention at the Barns. He’d remembered the way Aurora preferred her kitchen to be set up. For some reason the realization sent an odd thrill through him that usually angered him, but now he felt content. He was with Gansey in the home that finally truly belonged to the Lynches again. There was no reason to let rage or whatever the hell made him push Gansey away take over and ruin his first real day home since he’d been tossed out of the Barns.

Pausing, Gansey held up a box of the granola bars that Declan seemed to live on. He arched a brow, ready to speak before Ronan cut him off. “Not a word, Dick.”

Gansey’s lips twitched with a hidden smile before he went back to the sack he’d been emptying. He stopped again, pulling out a box of his favorite cereal followed by the coffee creamer that he preferred. For a moment, he looked lost, staring at the container like it might offer the answers to all of the questions that drove him during restless nights, before he set it down. Pretending he hadn’t noticed, Ronan snagged the creamer and the orange juice to put them in the fridge. 

It was stupid to be hopeful over Gansey being happy because of cereal and the stuff he put in his coffee, but Ronan couldn’t stop himself from thinking that maybe this would work out the way he’d planned.


End file.
